


Rushed Release

by RedHead



Series: Ice Hot Lightning [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (very) light spanking, Anal Sex, Barry is a bit of a noisy slut, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Gag, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP, Praise, Pure Smut, Sex, Threesome, but everyone is into it, like seriously super super wanton and likes being bossed around, overtones of dominance, sex in a semi-public place, voyeurism/exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4301688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHead/pseuds/RedHead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Cold Mercy but can act as a standalone.</p><p>Barry runs into Len and Mick at party being hosted by Ray Palmer and decides he needs to distract them rather than let them steal something from right under the ATOM and the Arrow's noses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rushed Release

Barry was restless and out of place. He was attending a fancy event hosted by Ray Palmer at the man’s out-of-town mansion. Cisco had come with him, which he had hoped would mean he wouldn’t spend the entire time awkward and alone, but Cisco had been talking to Ray for the last twenty minutes and Barry felt invisible. Felicity and Oliver were there, but last he’d seen them they were canoodling in some dark corner. He was pretty sure Oliver was just doing it as a jealousy thing since Ray was Felicity’s ex, but either way, Barry had zero desire to interrupt them. Digg was at home with his kid, so…

Barry left Cisco and Palmer and made his way to the bar. He wished he could get drunk because then at least this party might be some fun. His eyes scanned the crowd as he did, desperate for some social contact. Maybe Oliver’s sister was there? It was a silent auction for a charity, all sorts of Starling’s wealthiest and most prestigious people, so he really wasn’t actually expecting to see anyone he knew.

He did a double take. He _had_ seen someone he knew. Someone he definitely knew.

What the hell was Leonard Snart doing in Starling, at a charity—oh for fuck’s sake. He was going to steal something. Of course he was. At a party at the Atom’s house with the Arrow in attendance. Len was going to get himself killed.

Barry moved through the crowd toward the other man. He was standing off to the side, eyes scanning, alert but outwardly seeming relaxed, one hand holding a drink and another in his pocket. He was a wearing a _really_ nice suit, dark grey with an undertone of blue, it that cinched and hugged in all the right places, stretched nicely across his chest. He was wearing an ice-blue tie that brought out his eyes and dammit, Len looked amazing. Barry wouldn’t admit to jealousy about how well the other man filled out a suit under pain of death.

He was just breaking away from the rest of the crowd when Len spotted him. He saw the man’s eyebrows go up and then an inquisitive expression cast over his features. Barry noticed that Len took a false-casual sip of his drink, but as soon as Barry was close, he started talking.

“Good to see you, Barry. Didn’t take you for one to rub shoulder’s with Starling’s finest.”

“I’m friends with the host.”

“Oh?” Len cocked his head a bit, gaze intense. “Full of surprises, aren’t you kid?”

“Look, Snart, whatever you’re planning to steal,” Barry stepped closer and pitched his voice down as he spoke, “don’t do it.”

“And why not?”

“You do realize that the Starling City Vigilante has a bit of a reputation for putting arrows into people, right? And has been known to gatecrash one-percenter events?”

“Know something I don’t, Barry?” his eyes were narrowed now, not letting go of Barry’s gaze.

“Only that you’ll regret whatever you’re up to.”

“Worried about me?”

“Worried about my reputation,” Barry lied quickly. “The Flash’s nemesis shows up in Starling? The Arrow won’t let me live it down.”

Len arched an eyebrow, “so you do know him.”

Shit. Barry glared off to the side, mentally regrouping. “He doesn’t take kindly to people messing up his city, Len.”

The other scoffed, “I’ll take my chances.”

Barry opened his mouth but before he could speak, he heard another voice behind him. “You didn’t tell me you invited the Flash on our road trip, Len.”

He whipped around. Mick Rory was standing there, drink in hand. What. The. Hell.

Barry had a second to spare the thought that the other actually tidied up pretty nicely, in a black suit, classic white shirt, black tie.

“You’re here too? Come _on_ —you let Len talk you into stealing in Starling? You _know_ it’s a bad idea! I can’t have two of my nemeses crashing parties here—I have a reputation!”

Rory’s eyebrows started to climb up his forehead and then he was chuckling in that low, rumbling voice of his. “You excite easy, Flash.”

“ _Shh_ ,” Barry hissed, “Don’t call me that where people can hear!”

He looked around and so did Rory—no one was near enough to hear their conversation so the larger man just shrugged.

“Mick, did you find what I asked you about?” Len came to stand beside Barry so they were all in a circle instead of a line.

“Oh right—second floor, take the first right and—”

“You guys are _not_ planning a heist while I’m standing right here,” Barry kept his voice low but angry and incredulous.

“Technically,” Len smirked at him, “We’re planning our getaway.”

Barry was gonna’ murder them himself at this rate.

“Look—can’t you take a night off, enjoy the party, the free booze? Just _not_ steal something for once?”

“That doesn’t seem like near as much fun,” Len replied, seeming truthfully far too amused.

And Barry had a bad idea. An awful idea. Truly the worst. Except it might be better than letting them steal something, get themselves killed, and ruin his reputation. That was definitely the only reason he was about to suggest—

“And what if I could offer some other means of entertainment instead?” he said it braver than he felt, put a kind of devious smile on that he hoped wasn’t too transparent, and resisted the urge to swallow in fear at the way Len’s eyes darkened. Barry deliberately looked him up and down, then did the same to Mick. And yes—he had their attention.

“We’re listening.”

Then Barry did swallow, because he hadn’t thought through the details, “Well, I would _amenable_ to something like we did that, uh, other time—”

Len chuckled, “You’re not very used to brokering sex, are you kid?” He took a sip of his drink.

“Why would I be?”

“Fair enough. Why don’t we get out of here and—”

“I need to be here for the unveiling of the teleportation prototype as a gift to Palmer industries—it’s ceremonial but it was donated by STAR Labs and when Palmer unveils it, me and Cisco are supposed to be there.”

“That’s not for another hour,” Mick grumbled.

“You can’t wait an _hour_?”

Len replied for him, “We can take what we came for and be out of here in then next fifteen minutes, Barry. And we’d even still have time to meet up with you later.” He winked and Barry scowled, determined suddenly not to let these two out of his sight. They might not even be there for the silent auction, it might just be something at Palmer’s house they were after, and no one would know they took it until later.

“So why don’t we go now?”

The other men exchanged a glance then looked back at Barry.

“I mean—find an empty room, work off some steam,” he almost started to blush but kept talking, “and I can be back in an hour for the unveiling.”

Len looked Barry up and down in that predatory way, hungry, and Barry could see him bite his the inside of his lip. “Alright, you win this round of negotiations. Upstairs we go.”

Len turned on his heel and began walking toward the hall and Barry hurried to follow, Mick shrugging and finishing his drink before following behind Barry. This was a spectacularly bad idea. Not only had Len betrayed their last agreement anyway, but he was in Ray Palmer’s _house_. They could get caught. He could get caught having sex with Captain Cold and Heatwave. Cisco would never let him live it down. Oliver would murder him along with both of them. They had better not get caught.

But pushing back the nerves, Barry had to admit that part of the coiling tension in his chest was a mix of anticipation and lust. It had been months since their last deal and in those months, he hadn’t had an orgasm half so good as the one they gave him. He found himself thinking of that afternoon more often than he should have, and it had become his go-to fantasy for a while before he’d started to embellish it, imagine them in different positions, imagine Len telling him what to do, on his knees, on his back, on his front, every which way. It was embarrassing, and nothing he could admit to anyone, and he was really really glad he hadn’t had to face off against either Cold or Heatwave since then as the Flash, because he was halfway certain he would pop an ill-timed hard on if Len started taunting him during a fight, or if Mick started rumbling on about something.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Mick was step in step with him already and Barry looked over. Things he actually knew about the other man were that he was ridiculously strong, surprisingly fast, scarred and yet still handsome, and that he wasn't someone to hesitate. Then Barry looked back at Len and realized why they worked so well together—they were oddly similar. But Len was hard in a way that Mick was gentle, and Mick was rough in a way that Len was smooth. He shivered, remembering.

Len stopped abruptly and Barry almost walked in to him—he hadn’t really been paying much attention to where they were going. The other man poked his head into a side room and—

“This should do.”

Barry and Mick followed him in. It was an office, all cool tones like Palmer’s typical palette, metals and blues and greys. There was a large desk toward the back, not much on it—a closed laptop, some papers and pens—and it had a nice dusted chrome finish. There were shelves along one wall, full of binders and boxes, nothing that caught his eye, and some modern art across from that and behind the desk.

As soon as Mick flicked the lock on the door, Barry’s nerves returned, heartbeat increased. This time, at least, he had some idea of what to expect, and things were a lot more on his own terms, but that didn’t mean he knew exactly where to go from here.

“So…”

“Get over here,” Len took charge immediately and Barry was almost relieved. He walked up to Len, who was leaning with his arms crossed against the desk.

“Undress.”

Barry stopped two feet from him and started pulling off his jacket. He spared Len a mischievous grin, “just like that—been in here two seconds and you’re bossing me around?”

Len smirked. “If only you’d behave so well in that red suit of yours.”

Barry wondered if he should put up a token defense. He almost wanted to, except that he was getting hard just from being bossed around by Len and it would have been impossible to pretend otherwise. Instead, he started pulling on his tie knot and shot back, “You’d have to make it really worth my while in the Flash suit.”

“That a challenge, Scarlet?”

Len’s eyes were already dark but his pupils dilated further when Barry mentioned the suit. That was… interesting. “Something tells me you won’t be laying down the cold gun anytime soon just to fuck me in costume.”

He pulled off his dress shirt and then undershirt, pleased he could hear Mick’s rumbling laugh when he spoke. Half-naked, Barry looked over his shoulder at where Mick was leaning against the wall next to the door. Barry winked at him.

“He’s cheeky, ain’t he? Not all quiet and nervous like last time.”

Barry’s hands were already sliding off his belt. “Last time I wasn’t too sure what I was getting into. Today I’m…”

“Eager?” Len supplied, bringing Barry’s attention back to him. The brunet considered the word as he slid out of his pants, bending more at the waist than he strictly needed to, knowing Mick would appreciate the view.

“I was gonna’ say I’m offering.”

“The tent in your briefs tells me you’re eager, kid.”

Barry looked down, and then finally felt some heat rise into his face, mostly naked while the other two hadn’t moved yet. He dragged a self-conscious hand through his hair and chuckled.

“Okay, offering _and_ eager.”

“You’re not naked yet, Barry.”

“I…” he swallowed and nodded. He stripped away the last piece of fabric, a small thrill going through him from being exposed, and—if he was being totally honest with himself—from following Len’s orders. It had turned out pretty well the last time, after all.

Barry was also cognizant and hypersensitive to the two sets of eyes that were raking over him, Len’s lighting up as they slid up and down his form, Mick’s no doubt doing the same behind him. Len started to undo his tie and Barry relaxed by a fraction, stepping closer. “May I?”

“By all means.”

Barry let a little more mischief into his smile and Len’s shirt buttons were all undone in a blink. “We’re kind of on the clock, after all.”

The other chuckled, the sound rich and smooth, while he shrugged out of his suit jacket and shirt. It suddenly occurred to Barry to check, “You do have a condom on you, right, and something we can use as lube?”

“Of course, Barry. We wouldn’t invite you up and not be able to deliver.”

He nodded and swallowed, hands dropping to Len’s belt and unclasping it, loosening it as cool amusement danced in Len’s eyes, watching Barry. He unzipped Len’s dress pants and cupped him, teasing him through his briefs, matching Len’s gaze as he did, getting more turned on just by touching the other. Then Len cupped his neck and pulled him in for a heated kiss, and for a minute the world melted away. It was filthy and full of tongue, lasting too long by their time constraints but too short for Barry’s liking, Len’s hands in his hair, the kiss enough to leave him breathless and wanting more.

Len pulled back from it and Barry chased his lips but the other man just smirked and stepped away to slide fully out of the rest of his clothes, clipping the words, “Mick, come over here and bring that tie of yours.”

Barry felt a pleasant chill go up his spine. The tie? Mick was coming to stand next to Palmer’s desk, dropping his suit jacket onto the chair and pulling off his tie.

“Whad’ya got in mind, Snart?”

Len was placing a condom and a small vial of lube on the corner of the desk. “Tie his arms— _behind_ his back.”

“Really, Len, a—okay okay,” he clamped down on his own token protest at Len’s icy gaze. Maybe he should fight harder, kick up a real fuss, but they were on the clock and they both only knew he was doing it to get that kind of glare. He felt himself shiver under it then dropped his arms behind his back, wrists together and his back to Mick.

To his surprise, Mick didn’t just wrap the tie around his wrists—he yanked Barry’s arms up then maneuvered him so that he was clasping the opposing elbow in each hand, forearms snug together and tied his own tie tight around one wrist and forearm, then grabbed Barry’s tie from the floor to bind the other wrist and arm. This was… fuck it was so hot. His cock was already straining upwards thanks to the tension in his arms, feeling on display.

“Well well,” Len stepped forward and Mick stepped back, toward a shelf near the desk to lean against it and watch, “looks like you’re all set to go, Scarlet.” He was close to Barry and dragged one cold hand down his front, from neck to hip, going so slowly and making Barry shiver. Then his eyes flashed up to meet Barry’s gaze. “One day, when we aren’t pressed for time, I’ll tie you up like this and put you on your knees. See how much of my cock you can swallow.”

Barry’s throat when dry at the throat, almost dropping to his knees right then to try just that. “I—”

Barry caught Len’s smirk and then the man’s movements were quick and abrupt, calculated—he grabbed Barry by the bicep and pulled him to the desk, flipping him around and pushing him over the side of it, body bent at the waist. It took only a second and left him disoriented, biting out a curse as he was manhandled. His face was pressed to the cool metal surface, torso angled so his hips were slightly in the air, enough space for his cock not to be trapped against the unforgiving metal (thank god). His chest was being pressed down to the desk by one of Len’s hands on his back, above his bound arms.

Without warning, Barry felt fingers pressing at his entrance, expecting them to tease but they pressed in, two at once, already slicked with lube, sharp and stretching. They pushed passed the second knuckle in an instant, and Barry gasped “Fuck, Len, that’s—” then it turned to a groan when the fingers pressed straight into his prostate, building up a rhythm almost immediately, pumping in and out. His face was turned to the side, cheek against the desk, letting out little puffs of air against its cool surface. Len’s free hand palmed his ass cheek then smacked it. Barrt swallowed back another gasp.

“Better keep quiet, unless you want security knocking at the door,” Len’s voice was cold and chiding but then he scissored his fingers and Barry bit his lip and tried to suppress his voice. A minute later a third digit pressed in and he shuddered and—fuck—he groaned again, spreading his legs, angling his hips up. Len spanked him again when he got too loud and he bit his lip hard to hold back the cry of surprise, turning it to a whimper while Len rubbed the no-doubt red mark gently.

“You like that, Scarlet? Someone keeping you in line?”

“I— _fuck_ , Len,” he pressed his hips back onto the three fingers spearing him, stretching his entrance out and driving him mad as the fingers were slowing down now.

“Well, Barry?” the fingers inside him were almost at a crawl but they were so deep, micro-thrusts against his prostate and Barry was squirming, trying not to keen, breath coming in huffs and gasps. Len tapped his ass cheek gently and he blinked his eyes open, eyelids heavy.

“I like every— _ah_ —thing you,” he gasped, forcing himself to keep his voice to a hoarse whisper, “do to me.” It was too honest but he couldn’t care, head swimming with pleasure from those teasing fingers inside him.

Len’s eyes were so dark looking down at him, voracious and unsated. Barry wanted to play with the fire he saw in the gaze. “Please— _mm_ , _ah_ —Len, no time for teasing just— _ah_!— _fuck!_ —” the three fingers pulled almost out then slammed into his prostate and he stretched and swore, pressing his body back, neck and shoulders arching off the table. His bound arms strained against the ties as his whole body clenched.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Barry.”

“ _Yes_.”

The fingers left him but seconds later he heard the condom foil opening, followed moments later by a slick cock pressing against his entrance. “ _Please_ ,” he tried to keep his voice low, pitched to a gasp instead of a whine but it was hard when Len’s thick cock was slowly pushing against the tight ring of muscle then stretching his body out, carving a space for himself inside of Barry. “ _Fucuuuccck_.”

“You’d better keep— _mmm_ —keep quiet, kid,” Len’s voice was just this side of breathy and shaky and Barry didn’t give his own body time to adjust before rocking his hips back by a fraction. Len’s hands snapped to his hips to control the pace but the damage was done, movement initiated now and he was pushing micro-thrusts into Barry already, impatient too. “You’re so fucking tight, Red, you have no idea how you feel.”

Barry moaned, breathing out. He felt so full, speared in two by Len’s cock and it was a stretch and a burn, not enough time to adjust but he ached for more already. He was failing to stay quiet as he shuddered and begged—“Please Len, _nnn_ , you’re right— _ah_ — _there_ —so thick, feel so full, fuck you have— _ah_ —no ide- _A_ —”

“ _Ssshhh_ , Barry, I’ve got you. _Ah_ —I’ll give it to you good, so good Scarlet, but you gotta’ keep it down.”

Len’s thrusts were slow but deep, setting a rhythm and Barry was straining against his bonds and ready to start begging him to speed up. “ _Len_ —”

“Ah—hey, Mick?”

Barry’s eyes flew open even as he gasped. In his haze, he’d almost forgotten Mick was even still there but he was, leaned against the shelf in his undershirt, pants undone, hand steady on his cock. Barry felt his mouth water at the sight while Mick grunted in response to Len. Then Barry’s eyes snapped closed as he gasped at a particularly deep thrust.

“Get my tie.”

Fuck, what now? Barry didn’t even care. He blinked again and saw Mick move to the other side of the desk were Len’s clothes were dropped, out of his field of vision.

“I’m not complaining about the noise,” Barry heard Mick grumble from somewhere to his left.

“Just— _ah_ —do it, Mick.”

Do wha— _oh_. Mick was there, in front of him across the desk. One hand went into Barry's hair and tugged his face and head up, fingers gripping his hair, strong but not painful, just enough to tug. The other hand slid up his exposed and stretched neck and Barry exhaled softly, trying so hard not to beg and gasp for more. Then he felt another hand in his hair—Len’s, his senses told him but his brain was still catching up—and Mick dropped his hands instead to the tie and the next thing Barry knew— _fuck_.

Mick was turning it into a gag. Barry’s own jaw dropped open to accept the tie, leaning forward even though it meant Len was pulling harder on his hair, making it easier for Mick to wrap the tie around his head, doing a second loop so it would muffle his moans better before tying it at the back of his head. Barry was so hard it was almost painful and couldn’t even beg for Len to touch him now, totally at his mercy as the man fucked into him, a steady and relentless beat spreading him out that hadn’t stopped for a second.

Before retreating, Mick’s fingers caressed his lips and he let out the closest thing to a whimper that he could, straining toward him even as the fingers dropped away.

Len spoke for him, “Think the kid, _ah_ , doesn’t want to you go, Mick.”

He could see Mick shoot Len a dubious look then glance back down at him and Barry found himself nodding, imploring, swallowing thickly against the gag. Without warning he felt Len’s hand in his hair pull hard, the other hand moving to his shoulder, both yanking him back and stretching his body upward off the table and— _holy shit_ the angle it made was _incredible_. Len’s cock was pressing along the whole length of his prostate and dragging against it and Barry felt himself vibrate. It made his insides tighter, clenching around Len who gasped and twisted the hand in Barry’s hair. He shuddered and tried to thrust back, impaling himself and pulling Len deeper even as his lidded eyes encouraged Mick to climb onto the desk. He _needed_ someone to touch his cock soon, biting into the gag, moaning into it.

And Mick seemed willing to get with the program, shuffled forward until his legs were on either side of Barry and Len, wide enough to frame them. Len dropped his grip on Barry’s hair, hands moving back to his hips so he could hold Barry steady as his pace increased, a blessing and a curse because Barry could already barely handle how good it felt. His body tumbled forward, sagging against Mick, letting the warm hands hold him up while he pressed his head to the crook of the other’s neck, whimpering and nuzzling, desperate for contact.

Thankfully, contact Mick provided. He slid his fingers down Barry’s front, caressing his chest, clavicles, teasing his nipples until Barry whimpered into his neck, shuddering. His fingers were as gentle as Barry remembered, feather-light when they grazed over his skin, sensitizing it, but not shy. One hand brushed up to his neck, over his pulse point, thumb wrapping around to tease over his Adam’s apple, a light pressure that drove him crazy. He moaned and felt his body start to vibrate for a second, arms straining behind him, limbs beginning to quake as he moaned. He could hear Len chuckle behind him, a sound that turned into a gasp from the other man and then, “Think, _ah_ , Barry here is— _hah_ —very, v- _ery_ , greedy for it.”

God he couldn’t even deny it, nodding against Mick’s shoulder, wanton and _needing_ one of them to touch his cock before he exploded.

Then Mick spoke, voice low and rough in a way that made him shiver, “You’re so fucking pretty, doll. Mouth like heaven,” he titled Barry’s face up with the hand on his neck and his other hand teased his lips again, pulling at them around the gag. “The things I would do to that mouth. I’d fuck it for days, till its red and swollen, make you choke on my cock with those pretty lips.”

Fuck that sounded so good. Barry was _aching_. Len’s thrusts got sharper, deeper at Mick’s words and Barry moaned into his gag.

“Would you like that? I would take such good care of you, baby—make you weep and beg like you are right now, make it last for _hours_. I’d fuck you so good, like you need it, make it slow, make it burn hot, make you crazy begging for me.”

Barry had never had a handle on how to talk dirty, just barely managed not to blurt whatever too-honest thing came to mind but everything Mick was saying was going to straight to his—goddammit _still_ untouched—cock. The sweet caresses against his cheek alongside the filthy promises. He could barely meet Mick’s gaze but did anyway, embarrassed and aroused, begging with his eyes— _yes_ , _please_ , _more—_ even as Len’s thrusts inside him made him blink back tears of pleasure, throat dry as his over sensitive prostate was hit over and over again. He strained his body toward Mick even as Len groaned at how that made Barry clench around his cock.

“You do like that, don’t you doll? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, baby. Make your world spin, light up like a firework on the fourth of July. Fuck you till you explode. You’re just gagging for it, aren’t you, babe? Want me to touch you, want a good strong cock to fuck you?”

Barry was nodding, whimpering and Mick _finally_ dropped one hand down, pushing himself further forward until Barry’s body was totally flush against his. Fuck Mick was so _hot_ , like he had a permanent fever, running even hotter than Barry’s skin. It was such a contrast to Len’s cold hands and chest behind him and he felt himself vibrate again at the contact. Then Mick was angling them, fingers wrapping around Barry’s weeping cock and he cried out against the gag, desperate. The other hand was in his hair, gentle, Mick whispering sweet and filthy encouragement in his ear, a litany that complimented how Len felt inside him, how Mick’s hand felt on him. He dropped his forehead back to the crook of Mick’s neck, nuzzling, whimpering, and Mick shifted and— _fuck_ —pressed their cocks together.

It was so good, so good, the slide of Mick against him, the big and warm hand wrapping around them both, hot and slick, quick pulls that felt too fucking good. Barry was vibrating totally in earnest now, unable to stop and Mick groaned near his ear, Len gasping behind him as he clenched around the cock so deep—fuck it was so deep inside him, to the hilt, slamming into him and he was so full, too full, too hot. Barry was crying in pleasure, totally unable to do anything but try to ride this wave.

He heard Mick gasp, “God you’re beautiful. Such a beautiful little slut.”

Fuck he was coming. He bit down into the gag to muffle his own scream of pleasure, eyes rolling back as his whole body shook, fucking himself against both of them, clenching around the thick cock inside him, vibrating around it, cock vibrating as it slid against Mick’s, forehead pressed to the other’s neck.

Mick groaned low and heady, hand slick with Barry’s cum as it pulsed. Len’s hands clenched hard against his hips, and then the man was coming too, groaning as his cock thrust impossibly deep, shuddering his release inside Barry. Mick wasn’t far behind, the vibrations and slick, hot cum urging him on, the slide of Barry’s still-pulsing cock against his own. And then Mick swore, too loud but who cared, cum shooting up between them, landing all over Barry’s stomach. Barry was still shuddering out his aftershocks and it made him twitch, turned on and sated all at once.

For a minute afterward, the only sound in the room was labored breathing, the three of them spent. Mick wiped his hand on Barry’s stomach and the muscles clenched under his fingers. He really shouldn’t this to be a turn-on, and yet… it was starting to seem like any and everything Cold and Heatwave could do to him would get him going.

Then Len pulled back, sliding out of Barry and stepping away even as Barry tried to stand again, legs shaky. Mick reached forward to untie him, gag first and then Barry turned for him to undo his arms. He was so _so_ sore but in such a good way, arms and back and hips and inside and—god he was aching deep inside from the intensity of Len’s thrusting but already missing the feel of the other man’s cock.

“You’ve still got five minutes, Scarlet.”

“Five— _shit_!”

He sped up, grabbing tissues off the desk to clean himself and into his clothes in seconds, adjusting his tie and trying to smooth out the wrinkles. He slowed back down, wanting to say goodbye before he zipped back to the party, wanting to find a non-mortifying way to say ‘thanks for the amazing sex please call me sometime for more of whatever the hell this was.’

Len, beat him to the punch though, with a voice that was a forced sort of casual, “next time we should do this somewhere you can make more noise.” He was dragging on his pants and arching an eyebrow at Barry, but it was all the opening Barry needed.

He swallowed, nervous again, and responded with a voice both daring and hoarse, “sounds like a plan. And hopefully next time we won’t be in such a rush.”

Len relaxed and smirked. “Maybe treat you to dinner one of these days.”

Barry laughed now, trying to fix his hair. “I’d settle for a breakfast some morning after.”

“Hmm, pick a day to stay the night—we can tie you to the bedpost, take turns fucking you all night.” Len hesitated after he said it, stilling for a second, as if worried he’d gone too far. But Barry’s cock twitched at the thought.

“I hope that’s a promise.”

The other's eyes went dark again, staring at him. “Keep talking and we’re never gonna’ make it out of this office, Red.”

“Next time, Len.” He smiled over at Mick. “Mick.”

The other just nodded, a bit dumbstruck again this time it seemed, pants done back up but having made no other effort to move. That was fine though, that Mick still didn’t know quite what to do with him. They’d established there would be more of this, which meant Barry could wait for Heatwave to come around and make good on some of those promises from earlier. If he was lucky, Mick might actually fuck him next time.

Then he winked, and sped back downstairs (after a detour to the bathroom to wash up and steal some cologne), just in time for the unveiling. It wasn’t until the week after that he found out Mick and Len had stolen what they came to the party for anyway.

 

 **Bonus** :

Ten days later, Barry got an unmarked DVD in the mail from Palmer, with the note—‘I deleted the security footage and I _don’t_ want to know.’

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve decided to make this a three-part thing! Cold Mercy, Rushed Release, and one more that’s gonna’ be a play on the word ‘hot’ somehow. So you guys have one more to look forward to ;) Now excuse me while I go pretend to be an upstanding citizen or something, and not complete trash. Ps – Let me know if I missed tagging anything??

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Movie Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4445534) by [Daughter_of_Scotland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daughter_of_Scotland/pseuds/Daughter_of_Scotland)




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